When the work hits home.

Recently, I led a management training session that focused on how to deliver difficult information and/or feedback to a colleague. The session had been developed with input we had collected anonymously from the audience, and I thoroughly enjoyed both creating the content using their insights and case examples and facilitating the session itself. 

What the participants didn’t know - what I didn’t know yet - was how I would need to apply this content in my personal life just minutes after the workshop ended.  

Over the past couple of months, I’ve been attending numerous doctors' appointments and consulting with various medical providers and offices. The process has been overwhelming at times, as I've tried to sort out differing opinions and advice, advocated for myself (with varying degrees of success), and struggled with the challenging logistics of scheduling specialty and follow-up appointments. What has been the most frustrating part of this process, at least so far, is obtaining medical records from one provider to get to another, which has proven far more difficult than I would have expected in a digital age. In fact, during that very management session I was leading, I received a voicemail from my surgeon’s office saying that after all of my many attempts, the only way they could receive the MRI images they needed to proceed with my treatment was for me to drive to the MRI center, pick up the physical photos, and drive them to their office. This was after multiple attempts to send the images electronically and by fax. 

When I concluded the workshop and listened to this voicemail, I called the office back to try to understand why it was proving so impossible to get the images to them digitally. I was out of town and would not be able to drive and obtain and deliver the photos for several days, which would result in a further delay in my treatment plan. I was asking a lot of questions to better understand what was creating such a barrier. 

I recognize that being asked to clarify can, at times, be perceived as a sign of disbelief or even disrespect. We talked about these exact dynamics in the training session I had just facilitated moments before this phone call. This may be why I was able to be more present to the shift in the tone of the conversation as I asked more questions and tried to pose more possible solutions. 

I could hear the person on the other end of the conversation begin to escalate - their tone becoming clipped and condescending, their language sharp, and their frustration clearly on the surface. I could feel myself escalating as well. My heart began to race; all the rage and confusion I had felt throughout this entire process surged through my veins. My nervous system was preparing to fight. I have felt so powerless throughout this experience, and my initial primal instinct was to act out, and unleash the pain I had been holding onto this person, who I felt was unfairly punishing me for just trying to find a solution. 

But I was lucky. I still had the slide deck images up on my screen, the insights from my training participants still singing in my ears. I had the benefit of timing on my side, serving to remind me of what was truly important and helpful in this moment. I began to apply what I had just been offering to my audience: 

Ground yourself first: I took a breath and felt my feet on the floor. 

Offer clear feedback rooted in compassion: I said, “I just want to name that I can hear you are getting frustrated. I am not asking these questions to frustrate or annoy you. This has been a difficult process for me, and I am truly just trying to figure out a solution together.” 

Allow for space: I didn’t jump in or try to fill silences. I let the moment be a little uncomfortable, and I made sure to maintain a tone that demonstrated my respect for the person on the other end of the line. 

The person I was speaking with was surprised and sounded contrite. I was reminded that we were two humans doing our best with a difficult situation. I could imagine that other things were happening in her day, too. That maybe someone else hadn’t been respectful to her, and she was already primed to be defensive. By naming what I was feeling and the experiences I had been having, it may have allowed her to see the human on the other end of the line, as well. 

The charge in the conversation started to dissipate. I noticed my heart rate slowing, and I felt a greater sense of spaciousness in our interaction and within my body. The second-to-last slide of my presentation was a quote from Cory Muscara. He said, “In conflict, be the slowest breath in the room. Let your presence widen the space between stimulus and response. From that space, more choices and better decisions appear.” 

By the end of the conversation, we had found a creative solution. By that evening, my surgeon’s office had all the necessary documentation in place. I didn’t have all the solutions I wanted, but I had a clearer path forward.

It is often said, “The way we do anything is the way we do everything.” My hope, in all the work we do with our clients, is that we continue to practice the skills we learn together and can integrate them into our interactions, both personal and professional.